


erring on the edge of safe

by stepofthewind



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, Relationship Study, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25425433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepofthewind/pseuds/stepofthewind
Summary: At the end of every combat, there is always a brief bit of respite. Theobald sees all of this and sighs. So, this is what it is tonight, isn’t it?(Theobald and Gooey exchange stories in scars.)
Relationships: Gooey/Theobald Gumbar
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	erring on the edge of safe

**Author's Note:**

> there's a tiny continuity error in this that i was too lazy to write out, since i started writing it after family ties aired, and it's that caramelinda, joren, and spearia are with the party for some reason. they obviously aren't. the title of this comes from the song "the con" by tegan and sara. [i blame murph for this.](https://twitter.com/sofiabicicleta/status/1283604779042844672)
> 
> my twitter is [sofiabicicleta](https://twitter.com/sofiabicicleta) and my tumblr is [behercowboy](https://behercowboy.tumblr.com), if you'd like to chat.

In another stroke of luck and in the aftermath of Buzzybrook, they all make it out of the Great Stone Candy Mountains alive. Barely.

Rather than retreat to the cliff face that Saccharina and her followers reside at, the sorceress makes the split-second decision to pull Cumulous aside, instructing him to teleport the party to a place where other standing stones loom. Outside of the mountain range. Outside of the Sugarplum Fairy’s main domain. As much as her power may permeate the entirety of Candia, it’s obvious that it’s strongest in her home territory. Still, for all her reasoning, Theobald can sift through her sentences and find the real reason she’s telling him to do as such. Her eyes flicker to his as she finishes speaking to the monk, and she freezes as he holds her gaze. The concern there is true. For as much as she wants another chance with the family she’s found, she gave away a lot of herself when she let them into her home, only for them not to accept her at all.

For now, they’re no longer welcome with her marauders.

They appear in a peppermint copse at night, residual clouds in shades of pink and blue coming off their bodies before dissipating. With the immediacy of a true leader, Saccharina calls to attention her most trusted three. They set themselves to work on making camp. In no time, there are a couple of makeshift tents standing where once nothing was. The Rocks are colored impressed. Out of the corner of his eye, Theobald watches as Amethar reaches out with a heartfelt compliment, but before he can, Saccharina takes a step back, closer to the entrance of one of the tents.

“I think I’m going to tuck in for the night,” she decides. “Those counterspells took a lot out of me.” That’s a lie. They all had seen how she had absorbed the Sugarplum Fairy’s power. It was as if it were the purest energy imaginable. She had done it not once, but twice, so successful in saving them that for a second, their sighs of relief had been worth the wait. Their words had come out so hesitantly when they tried to thank her initially, though. None of them were sure they sounded sincere. Truly, she should be anything but tired, riding on a sugar high that will last her through the whole night. Instead, she is _drained._ “We can reconvene in the morning and discuss the steps to taking back Castle Candy then. I hope you all have a good night.” _For what it’s worth,_ she refrains from finishing with. At that, she withdraws with her head held high, but not before nodding to Theobald.

It breaks his heart.

Once she’s gone, most of the Rocks follow suit in silence. Joren jauntily saunters towards one of the tents with Spearia on an arm. It takes some convincing on Caramelinda’s end to tug Amethar away from where he stands. Abandoned now by his eldest daughter, he stews in his own indecision about how to repair their relationship. Ruby runs into a tent before her parents. Meanwhile, Liam looks after her, feeling the urge to follow. When he and Theobald hear the sound of an axe straight through wood, though, they turn.

There stands Gooey, arms raised over her as she goes to cleave through another chunk of peppermint bark.

Something about that is incentive enough for Liam to stay. Theobald can tell that he isn’t leaving by the way he stills to study what she’s doing. At that, the boy gets down on his haunches and begins to collect stray twigs into his hands. He pauses to stare at one in his palm at some point. It’s so clearly striped in the standard pattern that it’s reminiscent of an old friend. The Liam that was left in the walls of Castle Candy would’ve cried at the sight of it. The Liam on the ground now merely twists it between his fingertips. Then, he carefully places it with the rest of the branches he carries, partially in the crook of his arm and pressed against his chest. Preston in the back of his brain, he continues on.

Cumulous remains outside too, unraveling the very same sleeping bag Gooey had given him back in Saccharina’s armory hall. He goes a ways away from the campsite and chooses to set up by one of the standing stones instead. Partially slipped inside his sleeping bag, with his back against the strong support of a menhir, the monk angles his head towards the sky and absorbs its stars in all their glittering glory. Some sparkle a true blue. There’s a twinge of something strong there that causes him to touch the lower reach of his neck, where a lapis lazuli eye used to hang heavy. He traces a circle there and recollects the archmage in a way that any student would a teacher. Did she recognize him for the man he was now?

Or was he nothing more than a face that came and went in her past, her present, her future?

At the end of every combat, there is always a brief bit of respite. Theobald sees all of this and sighs. So, this is what it is tonight, isn’t it?

Throwing himself onto a nearby jawbreaker rock, he lowers his hand and lets Princess slither down into the sugargrass. She doesn’t go far from him, strangely enough. The snake stays right beside him instead, coiling her little licorice body up and hissing in content. He allows himself a small smile at the sight of it before he sets Battlepop to the side and slides Swirlwarden onto his lap. Clutching a balled up cloth, he begins to wipe the shield down, smears of bright blood and violent flecks of violet coming away with ease.

The melodic chopping of wood and the quiet accumulation of tree limbs eventually ends once they have enough for a fire. At the center of their temporary campsite now sits a pile awaiting a flame. Gooey starts to glance around, searching the ground for something to strike a spark with, but Liam beats her to the chase. He lifts a hand. The magic flows from him freely. Druidcraft alighting, the scent of hot mint soon ascends into the air.

At that, the marauder’s gaze shifts right to his, a single eye regarding him the same way he did her earlier. It’s as if she’s issuing a silent challenge. Until she isn’t, when all she can muster up is an uncanny smirk. A corner of his mouth creases with his own good-natured grin in return. Once the moment’s passed, he then shoulders his rucksack off and runs his bedroll out. Using his pack as a pillow, he lies down to rest right by the bonfire.

She likes the looks of this witch, she thinks to herself, as he lowers the deerstalker on his head over his eyes and attempts to fall asleep.

“Good night, Theo.”

“Good night, Liam.”

Surprisingly, Gooey chooses to take a seat next to Theobald. She scuffs around in the dirt a bit before settling on a gobstopper stone of her own. Discovering a small candied stone nearby, she goes to pick it up and starts to sharpen the blade of her axe with it. The sound that resonates with each and every scrape is immaculate. Between that and the cleaning, this is comfortable work. This is the calm before the storm. Briefly, her elbow touches his, a result of how close they are, but there’s nothing to the contact. She doesn’t feel different from it. At least, she doesn’t think so. Frustrated in that, she initiates a conversation to distract herself.

“You’re not bad for a knight.”

Theobald barely comprehends that as a compliment until halfway through talking. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re —” He cuts himself off, looking at her in shock. Her smirk remains, albeit a little settled, in case he still hasn’t caught on. “— not too bad yourself. You’re good with that axe.”

She chuckles, and the warmth in it scares her. Regardless, she disguises it well. “I could say the same about you and that sword of yours,” she responds, gesturing to the weapon in question. “Does it have a name? I know you royalty like your titles.” Gooey doesn’t say that as a means to taunt. It’s the truth, rather. The amount of times she’s had to rattle off Saccharina’s titles is too many to count. They’re nice on the tongue, though.

His brows raise in surprise. Not so much because she knows, but more so because she cares enough to ask. “Battlepop,” he answers, pausing the process of cleansing his shield for a second to take the sword into his grasp and give it a good, long, _hard_ look of admiration. Theobald lets its true name slip like it’s nothing but a word, loaded with the most insignificant meaning. Before, he was such a stickler about it. Far from Castle Candy now, he finishes the full name off as if it were an ordinary afterthought. “The Broadsicle.” What a title indeed.

“Battlepop, the Broadsicle,” Gooey repeats, with all the grandeur she can encapsulate in it. “That’s got a good ring to it.”

He neither says more nor reprimands her the way he usually would anyone else. No, all Theobald does is nod as he sets the weapon down as fast as he’d hefted it high. When he goes to do so, though, he sees a light go out somewhere in his peripheral. Peering up, he finds himself staring at Saccharina’s tent. A lantern was extinguished now, thus darkening its interior. It takes Gooey talking again to get him to realize how long he looks.

“You know, she’s taken a liking to you.”

Startled out of his thoughts, Theobald turns to Gooey. “She has?”

The woman snorts. “Don’t act so surprised. You had to have caught on by now. She’s not subtle when it comes to showing that sort of thing.”

Briefly, Saccharina’s furtive glance and silent acknowledgment flits through his mind. The signs are there. Still, he’s not sure he believes her. Not because his trust in her judgment is misplaced, but because his trust in himself is. What about him makes either of them certain of his worth?

Gooey sighs, though she supposes she can’t complain too much at his reaction. After all, she’d gone through this same ordeal herself once.

“Like isn’t the right word,” she corrects herself, and that gets his attention. Enough for her to continue on, at least. “She _likes_ everyone. That’s how she adapted to the world when it told her not to. She defied the lesson it was trying to teach her and she defies it today. She fought with all her heart to cement herself a place in this cruel society. When she met her father, she _liked_ him. When she met her sister, she _liked_ her. But you saw how they handled that. A reaction like that can only crush a girl like her.” Punctuating each sentence of hers is another scrape of hard rock candy to the blade of her axe. She hopes it doesn’t come across as too threatening. It’s a tendency she can’t seem to stop once she’s started. “There was a lot of love in her that she was hoping to unload the other day, and she didn’t. Now, she’s regrouping. You being here helps her bear that.”

He’s getting it, yet something still persists in his system.

“You’re not _of_ the House of Rocks, are you?” Gooey levels with him. “You’re only their guard?”

It’s a blunt thing to prompt him with, but Theobald nods in agreement nonetheless.

“That’s the thing, then, isn’t it? You’re not even related to them by blood, but you’re closer to them than she’ll ever be.”

The truth of that stings. She’s nailed it on its head, though. He can see their circumstances clearly now. “I’m a connection,” he concedes, thinking deep, as if he were drawing any lines he can find between his people and her people in his head. “I’m an olive branch because no one else can be.”

There it is. “You’re the only stranger that’s shown her a single shred of kindness in all this. She _sees_ you. The same way she saw all of us. The same way she saw Jon Bon... the same way she saw Swiftie...” At that, they watch as said marauders amble by, about to enter a tent when the former throws his axe in front of the latter and narrowly misses his feet. A one-sided screaming match ensues, ending with the viking simply picking up the gingerbread man and carrying him inside. “The same way she saw me,” she finishes, shaking her head at them. “Does your king see you?”

“There was a time he did. I don’t know if he does now.”

“And you would do anything for him?”

_There was a time I would’ve. I don’t know if I would now._

That’s a thought worth unpacking on his own time, though, not in the presence of someone who’s only partaking in pleasantries with him since they’re on the same side. “Yeah, I guess so,” he says instead, so nervous in speaking that he starts to play with his ear.

He doesn’t notice he’s doing so until Gooey reaches out with a hand, carefully touching where it’s cuffed.

“How’d this happen?” Her voice is significantly lower now. A little sheepish, actually. “I... meant to ask,” she explains, pulling away immediately.

“Oh.” He laughs, his growl coming through, not completely at a loss for words for once. The contact was nice. “The story’s not as exciting as you’d expect, unfortunately. When King Amethar and I were younger, we used to steal away to a town outside Castle Candy called Dulcington.” _A lot like Jet and Ruby, actually,_ he would add, though Gooey would have no frame of reference for that. “I was a squire at the time, so I was tasked with watching him and making sure he stayed out of trouble. But I never wanted to be on his bad side. You can see how that could conflict, I’m sure.”

 _Conflict._ She can see it, alright. Once a true knight to a true king, now a true knight to a true queen.

“Anyway, he got into scraps with a bunch of town bullies looking to pick on an out of place royal. He didn’t have the King’s Sword yet, but I had the Suckershield. So, I did my duty. I took care of them.” His ears unconsciously flatten to his head then, the left one in particular remembering it used to be whole and fretfully flicking out. Maybe there wasn’t much to tell, but that didn’t mean the story couldn’t still strike a nerve.

Gooey reads Theobald’s body language and, really, she doesn’t understand this. She’s not getting what he’s doing to her, if anything at all. It’s infuriating her to have these feelings. In the time of war is when it’s worst. Yet, when she stares at him, all she sees is a fellow outsider looking in. He’s helpless to the causation of a world always crying wolf. Someone caring against his own volition. “A defender that aids others until you’re dead...” she murmurs, not hearing herself say it aloud. Something in her softens at the sight of him, and she doesn’t know how to handle it.

So, she stands up.

“I’m headed to bed,” she says with a suddenness. “A good evening to you, Sir Theobald.” While she does walk away, it’s with all the hesitance in the world that she leaves him on his own. A weird ache wells up inside her, to the point that it has her turn around right at the entrance to her tent. She takes what she thinks is a last look at the knight. He returns it in earnest, doing his best to keep a bit of confusion from construing his features, but it doesn’t work. Lingering in her longing, she impulsively tilts her head in a minute motion for him to follow. Then, she disappears inside.

Wait, _what?_

“Theo, you comin’?” Another voice asks him this out of nowhere.

He glances over. Oh, it’s only Amethar, staring out of his tent sleepily.

“In a minute, my king,” he answers, guilt riddling his response. Amethar’s brows furrow, but it’s obvious he’s too tired to go any further with it. So, he shrugs and trudges back inside, leaving Theobald on his own to figure out his fate. The second he’s gone, a ringing starts in his ear.

Does he heed her call or does he do his due diligence and refrain? He would argue with himself and say it’s against their orders. Technically, though, it no longer is. Again, Saccharina’s in his head, her grin at mortifying him and Gooey in the Ice Cream Temple clear. It reminds him of the good old days in Castle Candy, when sisters now in the mist made fun of him and Amethar. Back when it felt like they could be his family.

Maybe this was his new family.

He doesn’t know what to do.

_Ping._

The noise comes off one of his armored boots. Curious, he looks down to find Princess beckoning him, tail flicking back and forth. Theobald leans forward then, if only to talk to her without being overheard by a lightly sleeping Liam. “What is it, Jet?” he whispers.

She hisses in response, as though that’ll convey what she’s attempting to say. If anything, it serves to only further his confusion, forehead wrinkling up as he tries to deconstruct the single sound she’s making. When her efforts prove fruitless, she shakes her tail out and goes for it again.

_Ping._

A vague gesture is managed in the general direction of Gooey’s tent with her slender head, and that’s when Theobald gets it. She’s trying to make his mind up for him, indecisive as he is. Princess is pretty insistent on it, too, about as adamant to get him in there as she was the time he asked her if he should trust his instincts, biting him thrice. In truth, he’s waiting on that, her signature move of sinking her teeth into his gummy bear skin. Then, he’ll go. He thinks to egg her on, so when he fakes an “I don’t know, Jet, I don’t know…” and she bares her fangs at him, it’s enough.

“Alright, I’m going,” he relents, getting to his feet, but not before stroking the snake kindly on her head. Always a comfort, the late princess.

A few steps and Theobald’s there, standing at the entrance to Gooey’s tent. He looks back, a last chance to bail, and sees the bit of black licorice that is Princess’s bodice dart through the sugargrass. Into the tent of her family she goes, and he’s glad she’ll get their company tonight.

That’s it, then. He’s pursuing this.

Lifting the folds of the tent up, he enters. Gooey has her back to him when he walks in. Maybe that wouldn’t be so important if she didn’t have her armor off, cast to the ground. He doesn’t see it until after the fact, though. What he sees first is her skin, a dark purple, marred with scars running so deep they expose the raw chocolate underneath. It’s a lot like the ones on her arms, save for the fact that those cuts are much more shallow. His breath catches at the sight of her, causing her to turn ever so slightly, her eye searching his for any sign of disgust. There’s none there. Only unrestrained awe and a touch of fascination. With that, she throws on the shirt she has in her hands, a sleeveless one dyed the shade of scarlet, much like the Carn in the Meat Lands. She then sits at the end of a cot she has, motioning him to join her.

Just like that, he does as he’s told. He seats himself, taking his helmet off and setting it to the side.

The rest commences in silence. At least, it does in terms of dialogue. Theobald removes his gauntlets with consecutive, resonating _clicks._ After twisting them off, he tentatively reaches out to touch the wounds on Gooey’s left arm. He wordlessly asks for permission with a glance. Her nod in return is so slight that it’s barely perceptible. It’s enough, though, and he settles them down tenderly, two retracted claws on twin scars.

_How did you get these?_

_They were the cost of having only half my face burned off._

Eventually, Gooey takes his large paw into her calloused palms, turning it until she can see the padded side. There, she discovers what she’s searching for. Multiple bite marks puncture through his bright red skin, left by Princess whenever he consults her for convoluted solutions to their problems. It’s as if nails have been pierced straight through him. These are failures to crucify the one that thinks he deserves to die with that fate.

_Does it hurt when she does this?_

_Not as much as the knowledge that she’s dead because of me._

Theobald lifts his paw from where it rests in her lap. Her hand holds the outside of it, guiding it where they want it to go. At last, it settles on the side of Gooey’s face that, simply put, _melts,_ the chocolate so hot to the touch that anyone else would pull away in pain seconds later. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he takes the damage dealt gladly. She tests him further, leaning her head in. If he feels anything at all, he won’t show it. Tangling his now unsheathed claws in her hair, he runs his thumb over the ridges, the heat igniting him to do something dangerous.

_Is this what it’s like?_

She has an answer.

The kiss feels as though it’s a necessity at first. Gooey goes into it headstrong, running for it like it’s a retort in one of their confrontational fights. Theobald meets her in the middle, and it’s dead on, the way he captures her lips in his. They should hate this. Maybe berate themselves for letting it go on as long as it has. In the kindest sense, they do. There’s something clearly here, though. It’s in the reception that’s key. Theobald isn’t kissing her because it’s a challenge he can’t turn down. He’s kissing her because it’s been years since he’s become so charged by an interaction. Gooey isn’t kissing him because it’s a game she can’t afford to lose. She’s kissing him because it’s been ages since someone wanted to know her.

Their bodies are aching for a little love. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Briefly, they both pull away for a breath. In that time, Theobald leaves a light trail of kisses that leads far from from her lips, meanders down her neck, and ends at the edge of her shoulder. There, a scar sits beneath the strap of her shirt. One last kiss there, which is when Gooey winces.

His attention is on her immediately, directed with care as he rights himself where he sits. She drags him into another searing, open-mouthed kiss to distract herself from the momentary soreness. He reciprocates with no complaint. That is, until they’re coming up for air again.

“This is okay, right?” he asks huskily, backing up a bit but not bringing his paw or his eyes away from her. “You’re okay with this?”

Without warning, she wraps her hand over his chestplate and tugs him close, to the point that their foreheads meet.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise.”

* * *

They may be the last to sleep that night, but they’re the first to rise the morning after. They’ll slide into their respective suits of armor, tear down their tent, and trample out the remains of the smoldering minty fire. Theobald will grab both their weapons just as they’re about to roll out, headed for the crowning jewel of Candia in what feels like a final battle, and he will shout out to the marauder because she’s nearly forgotten her axe.

“Hey, Goo?”

He’ll throw it to her, and she’ll catch it effortlessly.

“Thanks, Theo.”

After exchanging a rare grin, they’ll get into their banter, new and better. Cumulous won’t care. Ruby doesn’t understand why until Liam leans over to whisper in her ear. Her eyes will widen with whatever news he has, but she won’t be able to notch an arrow and shoot the messenger for his words. Instead, she’ll have to stare at Theobald until he notices, a bit of betrayal seen there. Amethar will mumble under his breath about how they should stop bothering him about it. His daughter will look away and listen to him, but that won’t stop her from thinking the worst. His other daughter, though, will support them in earnest. When Saccharina shoots a thumbs up their way, it’ll be wholehearted. 

At least one thing is true, all thanks to her.

They’re more focused than they’ve ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm crossing my fingers that i never write about these two ever again.
> 
> if you want to read a fic by me that i might actually expand on, here's one about [jet and theo as apprentice and mentor, in an au where weapons can talk.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663178)
> 
> kudos and comments are sincerely appreciated!


End file.
